Monday, December 26, 2016

Twenty Four Days to Go

And Obama is behaving like a home owner whose house is being foreclosed on by the bank.

Honestly, I'm surprised he isn't pouring cement into to the White House toilets and stripping the copper plumbing out of the walls.

Michelle is on her way back to being ashamed for her country and Barry can't really figure out what to do with his life. That's understandable, he had everything handed to him on a silver platter, so he probably hasn't the slightest idea what to do now that he is about to become a nobody.

The only people who are taking the new presidency worse than the Obama's are the ones that are going to be even more irrelevant. I refer to the writers and editors of the National Review.

I suppose that by now regular readers of National Review will have figured out that my sympathy for the Trumps is . . . limited. My own view is that Donald and Ivanka and Uday and Qusay are genuinely bad human beings and that the American public has made a grave error in entrusting its highest office to this cast of American Psycho extras. That a major political party was captured by these cretins suggests that its members are not worthy of the blessings of this republic. But here we are.

It can be assumed that the editorial board of Buckley's old rag whole heartedly agrees with these sentiments. They have certainly fired much more talented and thoughtful writers than Williamson for a lot less.

I personally am rather grateful that these particular leopards are proving incapable of changing their spots or even trying to dye them a different color.

Times are changing and political alliances are shifting.

By 2020, I expect that the National Review will have merged with the New Republic.